Roommate
by Curry Buzz
Summary: Dean Singer runs off his roommates at the boarding school he attends, so he can have a room by himself. He's planning to run off the newest freshman placed with him when he falls in love instead. Fluff/Weecest. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

This is going to be a 2 part story. It's done in a way that you can read Part 1 by itself if desired. Part 1 (this one) is pure fluff, but Part 2 will have angst. (but end fluffy).

Warnings: Fluffyness. And Sam is 14, Dean is 18. There is only kissing in this part, but Part 2 will have sex.

* * *

'it's not fair. i worked rlly hard to get a room by myself.'

'U scared ur last roommate off w/ ur smell. Not the same.'

Dean huffed. He should be cleaning his room and making half of it empty for his new roommate, but he purposefully left his stuff thrown everywhere. It was his room after all.

'Yea, w/e. But it's a freshman. Y not have him in the freshman dorms?'

Sure, Dean would be spiteful to any kid that transferred and took up the free bed in his room, but he was extra spiteful over the fact it was a freshman. The boarding school always put the same grade boys together. Dean was a senior, why did he get -

The door opened, and Dean looked away from the new text from Jimmy, already judging the lanky boy that came in after Professor Singer.

"Dean!" Yeah, he knew this was coming. "You were suppose to clean up! The hell, boy?"

Sam cautiously walked forward, eyeing the room. His eyes fell on Dean, and then to the other bed, covered in laundry. "Is this _my_ bed?"

"Yup." Dean grinned and propped himself up onto his elbows. "Home sweet home."

Bobby rolled his eyes and shook his head. If he didn't know better, he'd think Dean trashed the room on purpose, but Dean was always this messy.

"This is the boy I told you about, Dean. Sam Campbell. Introduce yourself."

"Dean Singer."

The tone was too light and joking. Bobby dreaded whatever his son had planned.

"Sam, why don't you... try your best to get settled in. Dean! Clean up! I'll be back in about an hour." He didn't trust Dean to escort Sam to the food court.

Bobby gave Dean a look before leaving, not bothering to shut the door. He hoped the open door would prevent the boy from doing anything too drastic to the new boy.

"Gonna pick up your clothes?" Sam asked, placing his bags down by his bed.

"Nope."

Sam stared, and Dean didn't drop his smile. Sam gave up on the impromptu stare contest, scowling as he grabbed an armful of Dean's clothes. He pointedly ignored the underwear near his face, and stomped over, dropping it on top of his new roommate.

"Get your stuff out of my side of the room." Sam warned.

Dean kicked his clothes to the floor, refusing to acknowledge Sam. Sam began to throw the items on his bed and dresser to the other side of the room in retaliation.

"Hey! Careful!"

In an hour, Bobby came back to see Sam and Dean on the floor, panting, each holding an aching part of their body.

"Please tell me you wrestled as a bonding experiment."

"He fucking bit me!"

* * *

"Are you kidding me?"

Dean woke to the annoying voice that had been plaguing him for two weeks.

"Seriously, Dean? Are you kidding me?"

Dean cursed at the blow to his stomach, and rolled over protectively. He opened his eyes and immediately forgot about his pain, too busy laughing. His handiwork from last night was even better in the light.

"It won't come off!"

"Sharpies tend to take a few days to fade," Dean barely managed to say. Tears pricked at his eyes, his laughter still trailing on.

Sam stomped off, presumably back to the bathroom, ready to think of ways to one-up Dean. Didn't matter, Dean always thought of something better.

* * *

"Dad!" Dean whined. "You can't be serious!"

"Pranking is one thing, Dean, but you messed with a school report. Be glad all you have is weekend detention." Bobby said from behind his desk. He had hoped that the malicious attitudes the boys held toward each other would ease up after a month, but it only worsened.

"Can't you just place him in a freshman dorm already?"

"No, Dean!" Bobby said. "We've been over this! I think making new friends will be good for you. Sam is a smart kid, and so are you. You're athletic, and so is he! Why not give him a chance?"

"Why does it matter?" Dean said. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Because your anti-social behavior is getting out of hand." Bobby was suddenly solemn, tapping his fingers. "Dean, you're skipping too many classes, and even the ones you manage to show up to, you act out! Your grades are down, and you're not doing homework. Sam will be a positive influence."

"Straight A's, model student, yadda yadda, I know." Dean mocked.

* * *

"It wasn't me," Sam said the moment Dean entered the room.

Dean looked around disdainfully. Their room was utterly destroyed on both sides. Dean was messy, but this was an obvious ransack. He headed to his desk, checking for his expensive electronics. All there.

"What happened?"

Sam fidgeted with the books he was picking up before mumbling, "Victor?"

"Is that another question or an answer?"

Dean angrily snatched his clothes off the floor, throwing it into the laundry bin. He knew that Victor had been giving Sam trouble, but it hadn't been any of his business. Sure, it bothered him that the other senior gave Sam a black eye, but what was the harm of a little violence? Dean turned to get an answer, but Sam was hunched over, hiding his face.

"Oh my god, you're such a little bitch."

Sam didn't respond, only wiped his cheeks with the back of his hands. Dean sighed and went to close the door before kneeling by him.

"You know he's just pissed 'cause his daddy has to pay an absurd amount of tuition, and you got in here on scholarships alone, right?"

Sam looked up, catching Dean's eyes. He shrugged.

"You know what would help?"

"...What?"

"If you were in a freshman dorm."

Sam made an incredulous sound, but he was smiling.

"No, I'm serious! You're a little fish out here in a senior hall. That's so weird. You're already weird enough, you know?"

"You're such a jerk," Sam said, shoving at Dean's shoulder.

"Hey, just trying to help you out here, Sammy."

"Dude!" Sam said. "I've tried, okay? I begged to be transferred. Apparently you've had too many students transfer. They won't do it."

"...Oh."

They sat there, avoiding eye contact for a moment. Dean picked at his jeans, compromising, "So hey, if you stop being such a bitch, I'll be less of a jerk."

Sam gave him another look - a bitch face, Dean liked to say - but nodded. "Deal."

* * *

"Hey Dean, got a moment?"

Dean turned from his friends and nodded to his dad. He waved a goodbye to them and walked across the hall, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I don't know what Mrs. Harvelle said, but it's a lie."

"I'm not... even gracing that with a comment," Bobby said.

"Well, you kinda did."

"This holiday," Bobby said, "I was thinking you could invite a friend to stay with us."

"Yeah?" Dean was grinning, shifting with excitement. "Yeah, awesome! I'll ask-"

"I'm thinking Sam."

"Sam?" Dean's face dropped. "He's not a friend."

"Well, guess we could change that, hm?"

"Oh, come on!" Dean was sick of this. He and the geeky boy had a mutual understanding, but that didn't mean he wanted to be best buddies all of the sudden! "Doesn't he have his own home to go to?"

"No, Dean. He doesn't. Not really."

Dean froze. He refused to feel guilty, but he looked away from Bobby's gaze all the same. "Oh."

* * *

Dean was not thinking this. No way. It wasn't possible.

Except he totally was thinking about how cute Sam Campbell was. The second day into the break, Dean decided to give up and hang out with the boy. They lived out in the middle of the country; the closest neighbor lived two miles down.

So he took Sam out into the trees and a bit further - to where the creek ran. The twenty minute hike over was awkward and mostly quiet.

When they got to the creek and began to explore and climb trees, Sam began to open up. They were hurling jokes and funny stories at one another, seeing who could climb higher faster.

Sam laughed with his whole body. He threw his head back and clapped if Dean was especially funny, and Dean felt a swell of pride when he could make those dimples show.

They took off their shirts to wade into the water with Sam endlessly teasing him about his tan line.

He grabbed the boy, hurling him into the water. Sam yelled, but he was laughing again. Dean laughed too, jumping in after him. They tried to dunk one another, but it was mostly Dean. He had the height and weight advantage on Sam.

After they calmed down, Sam smiled to him and said, "You know, I'm really glad you invited me."

Dean's heart puttered some, and he laughed, floating away, "Glad you came. Surprised, though."

"I didn't wanna stay in that dorm room by myself for a week. You're insufferable, but... not mean."

"Oh, insufferable? That's a step up for me."

Dean smiled when Sam laughed.

"Why stay in the dorm?" Dean knew he shouldn't go there. "Why not go home?"

Sam looked away, and Dean felt sick. He moved to take back his words, but Sam said, "Just... I'm a burden. You know?"

"No," Dean argued, swimming closer, "I don't know."

Sam wouldn't look at him, and he wouldn't smile. It had only been a few hours, but Dean realized he didn't want to do without those two things.

"My grandpa," Sam said so quiet that Dean nearly missed it, "he's sick. He can't take care of me anymore. I'm... When I'm..."

Sam stopped talking, and Dean knew it was because he was trying not to cry. Dean came close, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder for comfort.

"I'm not trying to be a bitch-"

"You're not!" Dean said. "Not at all. I didn't know. I'm sorry."

Sam shrugged. Dean tried to catch his eyes, but he wouldn't look up. Suddenly, the first two weeks of Sam's school year crossed Dean's mind. He treated Sam as if he was a burden.

"I really am a jerk."

Sam looked at him, _finally._ He tilted his head, confused. Dean smiled and dunked him.

"Jerk!" He yelled after he came up for air.

* * *

The week off from school was amazing. Dean hoped that Sam would agree.

They visited the creek almost every day, and sat around playing video games. They left a mess where ever they went, but Bobby was letting them get away with it. Sam knocked into him playfully, and Dean felt his stomach twist every time.

"You're disgusting," Sam said, watching Dean eat.

Dean smiled, opening his mouth as he chewed.

"Gross!"

Dean threw another handful of chips into his mouth, chewing loudly and leaning over the couch into Sam's space. Sam scooted away, so Dean grabbed him and pushed his face into Sam's, a few crumbs falling from his mouth.

"Stop it! You're nasty!" Sam struggled to get Dean away. When it didn't work, he rolled off the couch, taking Dean off guard and taking him down too.

Sam landed on top of Dean, but Dean still had his arms wrapped tight around Sam. Sam started squirming, nearly freed himself, but Dean trapped him in his legs before it happened.

Dean started choking; he spat the chewed food out, much to Sam's dismay.

"See what you did? Made me waste perfectly good chips. And now I'm missing a perfectly good movie because of you."

"You're joking!"

Sam stared at him with an open mouth. Dean, the mature one, took one arm from around Sam and moved it so he could jam a finger in his mouth.

Sam yelped and wrenched his head away, once more trying to get free.

"You're cheating!"

"How!"

"You are!"

Dean laughed and turned them over - Sam using the opportunity to try and escape, but Dean had his wrists and planted them above his head, using his torso to put his weight on Sam.

"God, you're so fat! Be glad you spat out those chips!"

"What did you say to me?"

"You're a fat jerk!"

Dean darted his hands down to Sam's sides and began to tickle him. Sam half cried out with his laughter, trying to turn away, but Dean still had his lower body trapped.

"I can't - I can't -" Sam gasped, tears on his face.

Dean finally stopped. His grin began to hurt his face, but he didn't care. He reached up, brushing the tears from Sam's face.

Sam looked up to him smiling, and Dean fell in love.

* * *

Sam didn't want to claim he was a pessimist, but he was not expecting their friendship to exceed the holiday.

Dean didn't ignore him or pretend nothing happened, though. He invited Sam to sit with him and his friends at lunch, asked Sam to join his activity class, and they began to study and do homework together. Over the next few month, everyone got used to seeing them side by side constantly.

"Not to have a chick flick moment," Sam said, "but I'm glad we're friends."

He wanted to say best friends, but he was already going to get made fun of for saying anything in the first place.

Dean plopped down beside him on his bed after he set up his laptop and put in the movie. Sam was hyper aware of how their bodies were pressed together on the twin sized bed.

"That sounds awfully like the beginning of a chick flick moment, Sammy."

Oh, to hell with it. "You're my best friend."

Dean looked down to Sam and smiled, putting his arm round him so they could lay more comfortable on the bed. "I know."

Sam huffed at the silence that followed, and Dean laughed and pinched his arm.

"Oh, calm down! You're mine, too, you knew that."

Sam leaned into Dean's side, getting comfortable. He placed one arm over Dean's stomach, enjoying the warmth from him. The movie barely started before Dean said, "On me like you're my girlfriend or something, Sam."

Dean's voice was low, not his teasing tone, and Sam took it as Dean being uncomfortable. He sighed and rolled so his back was to Dean. He tried to squash his disappointment down; he just liked being close to the older boy. They had been in worse situations.

Dean liked wrestling. They always ended up in the most awkward positions, sometimes both with erections, because - they're teenagers and come on - but Dean never seemed to mind.

Before Sam's brain could go overboard, Dean man handled Sam back into facing him.

"Wasn't complaining," Dean held Sam tightly to him, "Just making a comment. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"You wear panties," Sam shot back lamely.

"Shut up."

Halfway through the movie, Dean began to play with Sam's hair. Sam found it impossible to pay attention between the comfort of Dean's body and his hand tangled in his hair; he fell asleep.

He woke up from the light streaming through the window, warm and oddly content. He smiled when he saw Dean, face pressed close to Sam's.

"Mornin'." Dean whispered.

"Hey," Sam said.

"Stop smiling."

Sam smiled even bigger, "Why?"

Dean didn't say anything. He leaned over and kissed Sam softly, one hand gentle against his face. As soon as he was there, he was gone - halfway across the room and picking up his shower pack.

"I-I'll be back later."

"Don't," Sam said. "Stay... it's Saturday. You can wait to take a shower."

Sam patted the bed. Dean sat at the edge, barely on the bed at all, and refused to make eye contact. Sam came closer, placing a hand over his.

"So, did you get confused and think I was Jo, or was that intentional?"

"Sam." Dean said, a heavy sigh on his lips. "It's not - just. Forget about it, okay?"

"I'd rather not."

Sam leaned forward, pressing his chapped lips to Dean's. Dean kissed back only to pull away a moment later.

"Sam, there's all kinds of shit that comes with this. Our age, for one. I'm going to college next year, and-"

"And I'll still love you then, too, even if my new roommate is _really_ hot."

Dean barked out a laugh. He gripped Sam's face and kissed him again.


	2. Chapter 2

I decided to make this story into 3 parts.

ATTENTION: If you do NOT want to read weecest sex (specifically blowjobs) then SKIP the first segment! Ok.(:

* * *

"Come on, Sammy," Dean said, kissing the back of his neck. He sneaked his hands under the back of Sam's shirt, caressing around to his front. "I can think of much better things to do."

Distracting Sam from his homework quickly became one of Dean's favorite hobbies.

"Stop. I have to finish this. It's my English final." Sam said, sounding more resigned than pissed.

"You've finished all your finals but English. It's not due until Friday! You have plenty of time to take a break and relax." Dean promised. He pushed the tip of his fingers into Sam's waistband, biting softly at his shoulder.

Sam turned. His face was brought right next to Dean's, and Dean kissed him. Sam dropped the pencil in his hand, wrapping his arms around Dean.

"Okay." Sam agreed to Dean's surprise. Usually he'd have to bug some for an hour before the younger boy gave in. He wasn't complaining, though.

He grinned, grabbed Sam and lifted him. He laughed at the sound Sam gave and dropped him on a bed, crawling on top of him. He yanked his shirt off, pulled Sam's off right after, and slotted their hips together.

His hands found Sam's neck as he bent down to kiss him impatiently. Sam opened his lips easily, gently rolling his tongue against Dean's. His hands pet down Dean's back, and he arched his back to be closer to Dean.

Sam made a soft sound when Dean leaned back, starting to undo his pants. Sam lifted his hips so they'd come off with ease, and then began to help Dean take off his. Sam shuddered when Dean covered his body again, kissing and sucking at his neck.

Dean scooted down, taking one of Sam's nipples in his mouth, pleased at the mewling sound Sam gave. He began to lick his way down Sam's stomach when he paused, looking up to him.

Sam was panting softly, looking down at him with half lidded eyes, hands light against Dean's skin. Dean came up, kissed softly against his lips.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah?"

"You sure? You're... acting different." Dean said, pushing hair from Sam's forehead.

Sam was usually just as hectic as he was - energetic and rough and fast moving. Dean loved how Sam tried to push him around but couldn't, yet he was pliant and soft.

"Just... can we go slow this time?"

"Of course," Dean was taken aback but not opposed. He kissed Sam again, a mere brush of lips. "Do you want to stop?"

"No, want you." Sam breathed. He threaded his fingers into Dean's short hair, leaning up and kissing Dean deeply.

Dean moved with him, going easily when Sam pushed him and switched their positions. He straddled Dean, and they kissed, groped, and grinded for an hour before Dean tugged at Sam's boxers in question.

Sam moved back, slipping out of his last bit of clothing, taking Dean's off as well. He pushed Dean's legs farther apart, caressing his thighs as he leaned down.

Dean moaned Sam's name, hands gripping at his shoulders and head but not pushing.

"Look at me," Sam said.

Dean did. Without breaking eye contact, Sam licked up the length of his cock before taking the head inside, sucking. Dean's hips twitched, and he tried to control it. He was already close from Sam humping against him against him for an hour.

Sam took the majority of Dean's cock into his mouth, bobbing his head as he gripped the remainder with his fist.

Sam moaned against him, the vibration causing Dean to curse. Dean moved his hands to the bed, afraid he'd yank Sam closer as he neared his orgasm.

Dean's hips jerked erratically, and Sam knew he was closed. He backed off, keeping Dean against his tongue as he sucked hard. He felt the warmth of his release against his tongue and swallowed, sucking gently.

Dean pulled him off, groaning. Sam was stroking himself, about to come when Dean grabbed his arms.

"Dean," Sam protested, but Dean was pulling him up until Sam's cock was near his face. He took him in his mouth, Sam only lasting a few thrusts before he cried out with his own release.

Sam rolled over, boneless and sated. Dean chuckled, relaxed as well.

"What was that?" Dean over a yawn.

Sam shrugged. Dean kissed his shoulder, waiting for an answer.

"I'm just sad. I'm going to miss you, is all. School ends next week."

"You can stay with me, like you did over past holidays," Dean said.

"Yeah, but my grandpa won't want me gone that long. I'm fifteen, I can take care of myself. He know it, too. Wants me there. And then you'll be gone next year."

"Not gone." Dean argued. "Just at college. We can still visit and Skype... text. Lots of fun things can happen that way too."

Sam looked at him, laughing at Dean wiggling his eyebrows.

"Not the same," He complained.

"It'll work," Dean said.

* * *

"Hey, Dad," Dean said as he walked into Bobby's office, "wanted to see me?"

"Yeah! Hey, Dean. Sit down." Bobby said, shuffling some papers to the side.

Dean groaned, plopping down into a chair he was too accustomed to. "I haven't done anything! It's the last day of school. No one is even here to prank."

Bobby eyed Dean, almost a warning look, "Not here because of that, Dean. It's about Sam."

"Sam?" Dean perked up. "What about Sam?"

"Y'all have gotten close, huh?"

Dean blushed, fingers twitching. "Uh, yeah. Best friends."

Bobby grinned, laughing, "I knew y'all would get along! I'm happy to hear that. How'd you feel if he stayed the summer with us?"

"I... actually was going to try and get that to happen," Dean said cautiously. He was happy, but something didn't sit right. "Do you know something?"

"Do you know something?" Bobby countered.

Dean twitched. True, he couldn't keep his hands off Sam, but he didn't do anything stupid enough to get caught. He wasn't going to keep it a secret from Bobby forever... maybe just until Sam was 16. Or 17.

"His grandpa and I are talking about an arrangement. He's... He's not going to last too much longer, and Sam is going to need a place to stay when he passes." Bobby said.

Now Dean was curious. He understood Bobby's caring heart - wanting Dean to befriend Sam and room with him because of Sam's unfortunate situation. Dean would offer his home in a second for Sam, but why would Bobby?

"I'm not complaining, but... why?" Dean asked.

Bobby gave a long sigh, hand scrubbing at his beard. "You know why I'm the one that too you in, right?"

Dean gave Bobby a crazy look. What did this have to do with anything? "Uh, yeah. You adopted me."

"And I got to do that because I was officially named your godfather." Bobby reminded.

"So?"

"So, you and Sam should have known each other a long time ago, Dean. But I didn't have any say in the matter with him." Bobby looked pain, shaking his head. "I know, I should have said something before, but Dean-"

Dean felt the world came to a stop. He had a sinking, heavy weight in his stomach that prevented him from didn't want to accept what was being said to him. No. Bobby meant something else.

"-this is a good thing! You and Sam became best friends, you act like brothers already, and-"

Dean didn't realize he had stood until Bobby's voice trailed off. He was hyperventilating, shaking his head.

"You never told me," Dean whispered.

"I didn't think his grandfather would ever let you two see each other, Dean. I didn't want-"

"My grandfather!" Dean suddenly yelled, pointing at himself. "My brother! How could you-"

"He hates me, Dean! He hated your father and he hated me for being his best friend. If I were to let you see him, or Sam, he would have tried to take you away from me! It was for the best-"

"You lied to me!" Dean screamed, realizing he was crying. "Sam is my- my brother, and you didn't say a damn thing!"

"I wanted you to get to know one another before I dropped him into your life permanently!"

Dean ignored Bobby and ran for the door. He didn't care what he was shouting at him behind his back, he took down the hall.

* * *

Dean waited until the last moment to go to his room and pack. It was easy to do with his dad being a professor. Always the last to leave.

When he entered the room, though, Sam was sitting on his bed with a suitcase at his feet.

He jumped up immediately, "Where have you been, Dean? I've been looking for you."

Dean clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to calm the tidal wave of emotion crashing into him. He walked over to his dresser, confused when it was empty.

"I packed for you," Sam said.

Dean turned and nodded. "Thanks." He should have noticed. The room was bare.

He stalked over, snatched his luggage, but before he could leave, Sam grabbed his arm. He wrenched away from him, staring. Sam looked hurt.

"Did I... do something? Dean, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. My dad is waiting. I have to go."

"He's giving me a ride to the train station; we're going together."

Sam stepped closer, hand reaching for Dean's face, but Dean slapped it away.

"Don't touch me, Sam!"

Sam gaped at him, stepping back and yelling, "Why're you being such an asshole?"

Dean ignored him, stomping out of the room. Sam followed, fighting the tears in his eyes. When he reached the car, Dean was already inside with his suitcase in the trunk.

"What's wrong with Dean?" He asked Bobby when the man came to help with his luggage.

"He's just mad at me, son. Don't worry about it. You haven't done anything." Bobby clasped Sam's shoulder, giving him a smile.

Sam slid into the backseat, watching Dean type fanatically at his phone, a scowl etched on his face.

"You have your phone?" He asked before he could stop himself.

"Yeah?"

"I thought you lost it," Sam said, unable to hide the hurt in his voice. He had called and texted him the entire day and half he was missing. With no response.

"No."

* * *

"Sam will be here soon," Bobby said from Dean's doorway. Sam spent two weeks with his grandfather and now was coming to stay at their house for at least a month. "Don't... Dean, I know your mad at me. But don't take it out on Sam, okay?"

"Whatever," Dean mumbled.

Bobby sighed. "You wanna come with me to get him?"

"No."

Bobby waited a minute - to see if Dean would stop being stubborn and change his mind - and left, getting in his car and driving to the train station.

* * *

"I think you at least owe me an explanation," Sam said.

Dean ignored him, continuing to wash the dishes. He expected Sam's cold shoulder to last a lot longer than a day, but he was pissed. Dean ignored every form of communication from him. Sam grabbed the plate from his hand causing Dean to grit his teeth.

"Where's Bobby?"

"He went out."

"Convenient." Dean muttered, wiping his hands. He leaned against the counter, looking at Sam for the first time since the end of school. "What do you want?"

"For you to stop being an asshole!" Sam tossed the plate back into the sink. "If you're going to break up with me, you should at least say the fucking words!"

"Fine! I'm breaking up with you! Happy?"

Sam looked taken back, like he hadn't actually expected Dean to do it. He shook his head, turning it away. "No. Why?"

"Why not," Dean said. He couldn't think of anything but how this was his little brother in front of him.

"Are you kidding? 'Why not'? Is - Is there someone else?"

"No," Dean said, regretting it. He should have lied.

"I don't understand."

"Don't have to. Just get over it."

"Just get - Dean! Even if," Sam broke off, a tear making itself present as his voice broke, "Even if we aren't - why are you mad? We could... at least be friends. I'll be staying here a lot."

"Where are your parents?" Dean asked suddenly, a bit cruelly.

"What?" Sam stared, slow to answer. "I don't know. My grandfather just said they died. He wouldn't. Tell me anything."

"And what? No aunts or uncles or siblings?"

"Why are you doing this?" Sam asked, a choked sound coming from him.

Dean walked away, ignored the sounds of Sam crying while it broke his heart.

* * *

Bobby had hoped that a week would have been long enough for Dean to start talking to Sam again. It didn't happen, and Sam was prone to escape the room as soon as Dean entered.

"Hey, Sam. Got a minute?" He asked, sitting beside him on the couch.

Sam placed his book beside him and nodded.

"I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was hoping Dean would come around." Bobby explained.

"Okay?"

"Actually, I was banking on him being excited and telling you. That's not going to happen, it seems." Bobby paused, trying to find the right words. "He's not mad at you, Sam. I... I should have told him, and your grandpa should have told you."

"Told me what?"

* * *

Dean got back late from his trip to a bar with a couple of local friends. He eyed the light coming out from under his door suspiciously, sighed when he saw Sam inside.

Sam stood from the bed, face red and eyes puffy.

"Sam, I don't want to do this right now."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He demanded.

"What?" Dean stopped, alcohol clogged mind slow to catch up.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam screamed. "I was apart of this, too, you know! I deserved to know!"

Dean looked away, frowning. "Doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter?" Sam strode over, in Dean's face. "Doesn't matter? I'm your brother!"

"Yeah," Dean hissed, in Sam's face too now, "My l_ittle_ brother. My little brother that I _fucked_."

Sam took a step back. He was crying again.

"What? Not gonna say 'oh, this doesn't change anything'! Not gonna use that big mathlete brain of yours to think of a solution? No?" Dean waited, but Sam didn't respond. "Then get out! Get out, Sam! I don't want to see you!"

"This isn't my fault."

The rest of the summer went by with minimal words spoke between the two. Sam left to go back to hisgrandfather's, and Dean didn't see him again before he went to college.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean ignored every phone call, text, Skype message - everything from Sam. He blocked him from social media - that earned an angry call from his dad - but it got the desired effect. Sam stopped trying to contact him.

The first break from school was awkward. He went home, and Sam was there. Neither of them said a word to one another.

Dean went home on a long weekend, apprehensive. Bobby told him that Sam was at his grandfather's - he didn't have much longer.

Dean was relieved.

Over the time, the weight in his chest lightened. He tried dating. Met a girl with beautiful long dark hair and hazel eyes, but after the second date, and he leaned in to kiss her, he felt hollow. He just needed more time he told himself.

It barely hurt anymore. Not talking to Sam, or seeing him... being with him. Time took that pain away, and time would take away the rest of it too. It was for the best.

It worked for him. Except when he really thought about it.

He'd remember a random night, or a conversation, and he wanted to cry with the sense of loss he felt.

None of that mattered though! Sam was his little brother; he couldn't feel this way.

He only recognized his relief at Sam's absence. Refused to acknowledge the pang of sorrow that hit his gut because this was the only time he got to glimpse at Sam (except when he looked at the pictures on his phone he swore to delete).

He went back to school. He didn't think about Sam.

He didn't imagine what Sam was doing, if he's making friends, and who's his roommate? He didn't think of Sam with another boy. It didn't matter. Brother, he reminded himself.

The day before Thanksgiving break he received a call from Bobby. Sam's - no, their - grandfather had passed. Bobby told him he needs to get the stick out his ass and show up to the funeral.

He knew he has been a jerk, been pushing everyone away, but he's not heartless. Just how Dean's only ever had Bobby, Sam's only had his grandfather.

Sam didn't seek him out at the funeral. He sat in a pew beside some strange dark head woman who looked uncomfortable. When it was time for the family to leave, Sam kept his head down, and Dean knew it was because he was crying. He hates how often he's seen Sam cry.

The entire drive to the cemetery Dean saw Sam's face. He realized he didn't see any friends with him.

"Sam doesn't have any friends here," He said.

"No," is all Bobby replied.

"Has he... has he made friends?"

Bobby casted him a look and sighed. "You could ask him yourself. Send him an email. But yeah, Dean. He's made a few. Don't think he's very close to any of them. He's been pretty withdrawn lately. Throws himself in books."

"And Dean," Bobby said, "If you can't be a brother, Sam could really use a friend right now."

They got to the cemetery, and Sam stood off by himself without expression as they lowered his grandfather in the grave. A few people stepped by him, but Sam was short with them, and they left soon after.

Dean didn't think when he walked up to Sam.

Sam took a shaky breath, a sound that resembled a chuckle left him. "What?" He asked simply.

"I'm sorry, Sam."

"For?" Sam looked at him. "You have quite a few things to apologize for, or are you ignoring them like you ignored me? Did you come to offer me your condolences with an 'I'm sorry'?"

"Sam," Dean said softly, "Please. I just want you to be okay. I know-"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Sam spat as he stared Dean down. "You want me okay? If you wanted me okay, you wouldn't have thrown me away."

"I didn't-"

"You did! Now you act like it's okay to just..." Sam made hand motions, unable to put his thoughts in words. He took a deep breath and turned, headed towards the cars.

Dean followed. He found Sam crouched beside a car, head between his knees. He heard him gasping for breath.

He slowly lowered himself to sit beside him.

"He's gone," Sam whispered.

"I know." Dean said. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

"He's gone. And all I can think of. Is now I'm all alone."

"That's not true."

"It is!" Sam yelled and banged his head on the car when he threw it back. "I just want him back. I want my grandpa. He's the only one who loves me and he's gone."

"Sam-"

"And don't," Sam's voice broke, "don't you dare fucking tell me you love me right now. You don't. You're disgusted by me."

Sam sobbed, and Dean felt helpless. He pulled Sam to him, surprised that he came, and held him as he cried. He knew his words would be meaningless right now.

* * *

At the reception, Sam sat far away from everyone. He was in the corner of the kitchen and ignored every comment or offer of food to him.

Dean waited as long as he could stand before he went to them.

"Sam," He started, "I need to. I need to explain a few things."

"Now?" Sam snorted. "What timing."

"You know me," Dean joked. He cleared his throat and stepped closer. "Sam. I. Let's start with this: I'm not disgusted by you, and I don't hate you. Nothing like that. It was easier to be away. I haven't been here, and you've needed me. I can't apologize enough for that."

"You can't." Sam agreed. He didn't look at Dean; he continued to stare out the window.

Dean licked his lips as his throat refused to work with him. "You have Bobby. You still have me-"

"Go away." Sam said with his voice strained.

"You do, Sam! I'm here-"

"No, you're not!" Sam didn't care about the attention he gathered. "You haven't been for half a year! Why do you think I suddenly need you? You weren't the only one hurt, you know. That was a bomb dropped on me too. That was kept from me too. That was my business, and you not only didn't bother to tell me, you blamed me!"

"I didn't!" Dean interjected. "Sam, it's not like that! It didn't... It was different."

"Different?" Sam was aghast. "You're something else, Dean."

"It didn't change the way I felt about you," Dean whispered, ashamed.

Sam looked at him like he was stupid, but Dean didn't see. He stared at the floor. "You're my little brother. I was shocked, and I should be disgusted. I should-" Dean took a quick look around, "-I should be disgusted at the thought of kissing you or holding you. I should get sick thinking about what we've done. But I'm not. God, I'm some kinds of fucked up, because even if you're my little brother I still want you in ways I shouldn't."

Dean looked up and caught Sam's eyes. Dean shook his head and wiped a tear from Sam, pushed his hair back.

"So, please. Don't think you're unloved or that you're disgusting. I'm sorry I can't be what I should be for you."

Dean pivoted away from him and left. Avoided Sam like the plague for the next few days while they packed up his stuff and prepared to move him to Bobby's.

* * *

"I finished my room." Sam said in the doorway to Dean's.

"Um. Okay." Dean said and laughed.

"I was wondering if we could talk?"

"We've spent all our chick flick moments, I'm afraid."

"No, that was you." Sam said as he came in. Dean shuffles on his bed uncomfortably. "You did the talking, remember?"

"You talked, too."

Sam sat beside him. He hesitated, but then grabbed Dean's hand. "I still love you, too."

"Sam," Dean warned as he took his hand back. He went to say something, but Sam did it first.

"My mathlete brain," Sam said a bit spitefully, but there was a smile, "can think of a few reasons why it's not such a bad thing."

"Sam, there's fifty reasons why this is wrong." Dean changed positions to face him. "One, illegal."

"We don't have the same last names, and even if we did," Sam took a deep breath. "You're my big brother. Fact. I don't care. Fact. You were... my best friend, my boyfriend. Now you're my brother too, and I don't care. I want you to be my everything."

Dean was quiet as he thought. It wouldn't be good. Sam should be with someone that wasn't his brother - but all he could think about was how much he wanted to be with him.

"You'd give me all that power to hurt you again?"

"Are you?" Sam countered sharply.

Dean smiled. For the first time since he was brought into his dad's office, he felt like he could breath without dying. "No."

He took Sam's face in his hands and caressed his cheeks with his thumbs. Sam smiled and placed his hands over Dean's.

"Then there's no reason to worry. We'll just take it one day at a time, like we always planned to."

Dean squeezed Sam's face, teased, "Look at you. All mature."

"Well, one of us has to be. Look at that major bitch fest you threw. For six months. You're not just the jerk; you're also the bitch."

Dean laughed. God, he couldn't do it again. He couldn't be without Sam a day longer.

He leaned forward and kissed him. His stomach flipped as he breathed through his noise. Sam laughed into the kiss, and Dean opened his eyes just to see those dimples.

"Fuck, I've missed you."

"Your fault."

Dean grabbed him and rolled so they were laying on their sides facing one another. They began to talk. Kissed between sentences of school and new friends and life.

Hours passed and they only stopped talking to press continues kisses at one another's lips.

"So, now we live happily ever after, right?"

"God, Sammy. I think you've overdosed me on chick flick moments."


End file.
